


Missed Calls and Miscommunication

by sorbriquette



Series: Carry On Countdown 2018 [4]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: I wrote this ages ago I high key barely remember it but whatever, M/M, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 19:23:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorbriquette/pseuds/sorbriquette
Summary: In which Penny writes a number on Baz's cup - one that isn't hers.





	Missed Calls and Miscommunication

**Author's Note:**

> Well well, it's been a while countdown. I actually have a few prompts I started but didn't finish in time so who knows when those will pop up?

**Simon**

"Pumpkin mocha breve," a voice I've come to despise says.

I'm not surprised to see him here, that doesn't stop me from hating him though.

I scribble the stupid posh git's unreasonably elaborate order onto a cup and he just hands me his card, not even waiting for me to tell him the price. Impatient bastard.

It's not like he doesn't  _ know  _ how much it'll cost. It's just protocol. He's supposed to wait for me to tell him.

Penny says I'm being daft getting annoyed about this, she says I'd get pissed if he made me tell him the price every time. Maybe she's right. Doesn't make it any less fucking annoying.

I scribble his name beside it.  _ Baz _ . What a stupid name. I knew it from the first time he came in but I made him tell me for about a month afterwards just because it seemed to make him roll his eyes and sigh.

He's in here at least twice a week. Never stays to sit and work, just gets his coffee and runs. Or struts maybe. Doubt anyone that posh has ever run in their life. Probably just calls his driver when he needs to go more than 10 meters quickly.

I paywave his card and hand it back to him. He just nods at me, like a git. No please or thank you or anything. Then he just stares at his phone until Penny calls his order.

He doesn't get up and leave this time. Instead, he wanders over to a seat in the corner and sits there drinking his coffee and glaring daggers at his cup.

It makes me unreasonably angry. He's supposed to leave. Why is he still here?

Maybe Penny's right. Maybe I'll just be annoyed no matter what he does.

Penny goes to take her break after the line just becomes a steady trickle of people sporadically walking in.

She's still on break when Baz comes back to the counter. I almost call for her. I can't handle customer complaints, she was always better at it than me. I can't handle this guy at the best of times, let alone if he's about to give me an earful about how his coffee was two degrees too cold.

"Where's Penelope?" He asks immediately like somehow he's learnt to read my mind.

I shrug, hoping another customer walks in so I can usher him out for not ordering anything and let them through. "She's on break."

"When will she be back?"

I shrug again. "I dunno, fifteen minutes?" I'm not actually sure but somehow 15 minutes seems good. Like he might leave and I'll be blissfully rid of him. Or he might stay and Penny might take longer than that and then he'll have wasted his time.

He sighs, I'm not sure if it's exasperation at me or at Penny, "look, I have a class I need to get to, could you tell her I'm not interested?"

I stare at him for a few moments, processing what just came out of his mouth. When it finally sinks in, I snort. "Penny isn't interested in you, mate. She's got a boyfriend."

Baz frowns to himself for a moment and holds up the takeaway cup. "Then what's this."

There's a number written across the cup, too neat to be my hand and too familiar to not be Penny's. My amusement dies down a moment before I actually read it.

"That's not Penny's number," I say with absolute certainty.

He raises an eyebrow at me, I can't help but wonder if he practices that in the mirror. "Then who's number did she write on my cup."

I shrug again, it's easier than talking. "Dunno, but it's not Penny's, I know my best friend's number."

Baz watches me carefully for several moments before slowly drawing his phone from his pocket and punching in the number. I watch him raise it to his ear and wait. Unfortunately, no new customers decide to grace me with their presence so I can't even tell him to fuck off.

He looks me dead in the eye as it rings. He has nice eyes, for an arsehole. They're a sort of grey but as I meet his gaze with as much ferocity as I can must I start to see the shifts of blue and green that reside there. I carefully add it to the list of reasons that I hate him.

No one that shitty should be allowed to be so pretty. He's got perfectly groomed eyebrows, his red-gold skin is basically blemish free and his hair always looks so perfect and silky and effortless. And now he's got pretty eyes too. It's not fair.

No one picks up the phone apparently because after a few moments of listening to it ring he puts the phone back in his pocket.

I attempt to muster up the smuggest, most I-told-you-so expression I can. He just raises an eyebrow at me again and turns to go, tossing the cup in the bin on the way out.

* * *

I get back to the flat I share with Penny after closing. Her shift finished a couple of hours before mine and she's taken the liberty of making dinner.

I consider bringing the Baz incident to her attention but before I can she pipes up, "you left your phone on the coffee table."

Honestly, I hadn't even noticed it was gone. The coffee shop is only about a block's walk from our flat so it's not like I spend the journey on my phone. Hell, I didn't even have a phone till Penny insisted I get one when we moved in together, it's not like they provide you with one in care homes.

"Thanks," I say venturing into the living room to get it, not expecting much.

And there isn't much. Just a couple of text from Penny, one from Agatha and a missed call from an unknown number.

I almost don't call it. But I have been shopping around for another job, so I hit redial.

It takes a couple of rings before someone picks up. "Hello?"

I'd recognise that smarmy voice anywhere, even though he's never actually said hello to me. Mostly just  _ one pumpkin mocha breve _ .

I hit end call faster than I've done just about anything in my life. And then I just sit there, staring at the phone for several long moments as everything clicks into place.

"Penny," I try and fail to keep my voice level as I storm back into the kitchen, "did you write my number on that arsehole's cup?"

She doesn't even look up as she says, "yep," popping the p without a care in the world.

"You can't just do that," I protest, throwing my hands up in the air.

"Sure, I can." She turns around with two plates of food in her hands, "now, eat."

"This isn't over," I snap at her, but take the food anyway mumbling a quick, "thanks."

I see something devious in the smirk that curls her lip, "oh it definitely isn't over." But I’m too enraptured with the food to pay attention to the ominous undertones of her words.

* * *

He comes in again, half a week later. And he sits and waits again.

I can't help but flush looking back on last time with this new information. I try not to think about it, hoping that this time he'll just get up and leave.

He doesn't though. This time he gets up and makes his way to the counter. Penny's still on shift but she mutters something about going to back, telling me I need to man the till and she sends me a wink.

I silently curse her.

Baz leans against the counter, giving Penny's retreating figure a strange look.

"I take it you didn't talk to her? She did it again." He twists the cup around so the digits written down the side are facing me.

I shake my head. "It's not her number," I protest again, refusing to elaborate.

"Well, it's someone's because they called me."

I swallow and take a deep breath. "It's mine."

He gives me a long slow look, eyes narrowed like he's trying to figure out if I'm telling the truth or not. "You know her number but you don't know your own?"

"Yeah," I say like it's obvious, because it  _ is _ , "she's my best friend."

He looks at me like I'm an idiot for several slow seconds that seem to drag on forever. Then he stops and pushes it back towards me. "I assume you'll be wanting to destroy this then."

I stare back at him for yet more moments. He seems to tire of our staring contests because he turns towards the door.

"Wait," I say before I can second guess myself, "take it, call me." I push the empty paper cup back towards him.

He glances between it and me a couple of times and I half think he's about to laugh in my face and toss it in the bin. He doesn't though, he just silently picks up the cup and walks out the door.

* * *

It's not until after work that I realise I've left my phone at home again. And again, when I get there, I have a missed call.

I hesitate a moment or two.

I thought I'd already done the hard part I had to. Telling him it was my number, telling him to take it, even if Penny did help me along some. Now I have to call though, because I doubt he'll call back if I don't.

At the same time, it all feels too desperate, like I want it too much. Which is bullshit because I hated him up until a few days ago. The more I think of that the more bullshit the hate seems though, so I stop thinking about it again.

But I do want to see him and I do want that date. He did already call me after all, it's not like he isn't interested.

I eventually call back, despite the part of me screaming in protest that this is a bad idea.

He doesn't say hello this time when he picks up, instead he sneers out, "You're not going to immediately hang up on me again are you?"

So obviously I immediately hang up on him.

That solves one problem at least.

Despite my nerves and the overwhelming urge to call him again, I stand leaving my phone on the table.

But then it buzzes.

I basically dive back over the couch to get it but even with all that haste I can't help but wait a couple of rings, letting him sweat a little.

But I do pick up. And before I have a chance to say anything he speaks. "Oh good, I was afraid I wouldn't get to do this."

Then  _ he  _ hangs up on  _ me _ .

I just glare at my phone for a few moments, like if I stare hard enough Baz will be able to feel it on the other end. I suppose I did hang up on him first though.

So, I text. That way neither of us can hang up on the other.

_ U free tmrrw night? Dinner? _

I barely have to wait a moment before I get one back.

_ I'd love to _ .


End file.
